


The Husbands at Home

by ToxicWitchling



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Comedy, Cuddles, Domestic, Drabbles, Established Relationship, Fast Food, Fluff, Freeform, Funny, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Murder Husbands, Smut, Will Knows, a little OOC in places, but mainly exploring the relationship, doesn't care, little Mischa Lecter, mature - Freeform, prompts, they live together, they're in love, they're married, tooth rotting sweetness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:20:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23920708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicWitchling/pseuds/ToxicWitchling
Summary: This is going to be a series of short stories based on prompts from an online generator! Mainly done because I'm working on my longer series but I like the idea of having a little fun and writing silly, little tidbits for this hilarious pair.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	1. Can I get some fries, a burger and some blood with that?

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter's prompt: Hannibal and Will go to a drive-thru fast food place. When they get home, it is discovered that the staff did not prepare Hannibal's order properly. Despite Hannibal insisting they don't mind, Will drives back to the fast food place to demand a new meal be made for Hannibal.

"It's not a big deal. I'll pull in here." 

Will made a point not to look over at Hannibal as he pulled into the McDonald's drive-thru. On a normal day, doing something like this would be considered sacriledge. Even now he didn't feel entirely comfortable doing it; he felt like that kid standing in the pool, peeing quietly and hoping no one noticed the now suspiciously warm water. 

However, they'd had a case in the middle of Buttfuck, nowhere. Quite frankly Will was thrilled as he saw the golden arcs peer from round the back of a motel. Hannibal did not share his sentiment. It wasn't like him to be caught unawares without a tupperware bowl or two of leftovers, but the drive put him out of sorts. 

The case was supposed to be a simple in and out, nothing spectacular - but the perp emerging from a hiding place at the scene complicated things. A half hour man hunt, a stand off and two hours later they were finally dismissed. Lodgings were sparce for the night; the entire town they were in was no bigger than a football field, more a drive-by than a destination. 

"What do you want?" Will smiled at his Husband. It was met with disdain. "You're an adult, Hannibal, use your words." 

That almost sent him into a strop. His characteristically thin lips curved into a displeased pout whilst his whole body stayed firmly upright. He glanced at the menu. 

"I don't believe anything called a 'McChicken' has any actual chicken in it." 

"A lot of things get called chicken at your table that aren't chicken," and Will knew from the tired glance that earnt him he hadn't done himself any favors. Though, it was worth it. "I'm ordering you a Big Mac."

The order went through quickly and they only spent a few awkward minutes sat in silence before a youngish looking lad with pimply skin handed them the paper bag. Will was salivating thinking of it. Driving back to the motel he couldn't remember the last time he'd really indulged in fast food. Hannibal kept him so well fed he couldn't complain, but there was nothing like the salty sting of a McDonald's fry burning the roof of your mouth. There was even a little part of him that just wanted to watch Hannibal try and eat it, maybe even snap a picture or two. 

"The order is wrong," Hannibal's voice cut across his errant daydream of watching him eat a Big Mac with his shirt off. 

"Huh?" 

"The order in the bag is incorrect. The two boxes say quarterpounder." 

"Son of a bitch!" Will shouted it and made a very illegal u-turn. He was not in the mood for this. He was in the mood for the burger he ordered, and watching Hannibal eat dirty, disgusting fast food and maybe even getting weirdly turned on at the sight of it. 

"Please, don't turn around on my part. I don't think I would have eaten much in any account." 

"Hannibal, you're eating the burger."

Half an hour later they were back at the motel with the right order. Will was half way through his, appropriately stuffing ten fries at a time in his mouth and watching eagerly at his Husband's distress. Finally, he'd found the one thing that could stop Dr Lecter in his tracks. A big mac and fries.


	2. Knockout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: Hannibal and Will are doing the nasty when little Mischa comes in un-announced. Flustered, Will tells her 'Daddy's are just wrestling'. It comes back to bite him when she asks who won.

"Daddy, what are you doing?"

Will is mid thrust, about to go balls deep when he hears his daughter's voice whisper through the room. Somewhere in his muddled thoughts he has the cognition to thank God they didn't leave the light on. 

"We're wrestling, honey," is all he can muster. It comes out in an unusually high squeak and he hears Hannibal groan beneath him. "You do better," he whispers it comically loud. 

"Papa sounds hurt," Mischa's little voice is filled with genuine concern. Honestly, Will didn't think they were being that loud but even with all their years of parenting he never could judge the hearing of a child.

"Papa is fine, sweetheart," Hannibal lumbers up on both his elbows, offering a smile. "Go to bed. We'll be in to tuck you back in." 

Mischa takes his word as gospel and as quickly as her ghostly little figure had appeared at the door she is gone. Her white nightdress and blonde curls shuffling down the corridor to her room. 

"Wrestling?" 

"I panicked."

"Evidently," Hannibal is up, wrapping himself in the dressing gown he keeps not a foot from their bed. 

"You wanted me to tell her what I was really doing?" Will gets up after him, shameless erection already waning as he shoves on his boxers. This was not the end to the night he had in mind. 

"Don't be ridiculous."

The next morning at breakfast is surprisingly normal. Obviously, the attention span of children is best attributed to that of a goldfish but Will was almost sure there'd be something. Kids get all sorts of ideas in their head. Mischa thought the boogieman was in her closest once. Then, by tea the next day, she thought she saw the tooth fairy. It was all relative. 

"Daddy..." she began. The hand holding his coffee mug tensed. This was it. 

"Yes, sweet-pea?" he eyes Hannibal nervously, waiting for the back up he knows isn't going to come. 

"You know your wrestling match?"

"Yes..."

"Who won?" Mischa beams up at him, all baby blues and summertime sweetness. He hears a chuckle from his husband over by the dishes where he's still washing up from pancakes. 

"Not Daddy," Hannibal's voice rumbles with his laughter.


	3. I only love clean dishes and cannibals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt: Will: I love you  
> Hannibal: *shoving laundry basket into Will's hands* stop saying I love you to get out of chores

"You look beautiful today." 

"Did you do the laundry like I asked?" 

The plan wasn't working. The courtesy shower, shit and shave had gone almost entirely unnoticed in Hannibal's latest cleaning tirade. Every few weeks or so his usual calm demeanor would slip and he'd stomp around the house finding things to be irked at. Will never understood why; even with Mischa they were cleaner than most. Though he supposed 'cleaner than most' didn't cut it for a man used to the pristine. 

Normally, it was little things that Will forgot to do; the dishes from the night before, his half read books lounging in chairs and now his laundry. It wasn't that he was a slob, he was just a normal human being. He didn't do chores with the meticulous joy in which Hannibal did them. Didn't treat them like holistic stress relief. So now he was starring down the barrel of a loaded gun, said gun being his very unimpressed Husband. 

Hannibal had been buzzing about the house for a solid hour - one of the signs that he was close to simply stripping the house bare and starting all over again. It was in the last quarter of that insufferable hour that Will remembered he neglected to empty the laundry basket in the en suite, like he was asked to do, three times. Then began the dangerous game. 

Will slipped out of his Iron Maiden t-shirt and into a casual dress shirt Hannibal bought him a few months prior. It wasn't anything fancy but still nice. A change of trousers and a comb through his unruly locks completed the look. There were two ways to subdue Hannibal Lecter; appeal to his intellect or, if you were Will, appeal to his dick. It just so happened that today he didn't fancy the philosophical debate over laundry. 

"I love you." 

"And I love you, dearest," Hannibal thrust the laundry basket into Will's hand just in time with the 'dearest'. "Now stop saying it to get out of chores."


	4. Dad jokes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: Will telling really dumb or corny jokes to Hannibal, thinking they are so clever and funny. Hannibal just thinks Will is adorable for thinking the jokes are funny.

"Can you pass me the book mark?" Hannibal waved his hand in the direction of the object without looking up from his book. 

"You'd think after having a kid together you'd know my name is Will."

Hannibal blinked twice, an unusual habit for himself but it took a moment to register what he'd just heard. When he brought his head up he could see Will's toothy grin. The book mark was already in his hand being thrust in Hannibal's direction. 

"It's rude not to know your husband's name," Will snickered a little, a light reddening of his cheeks threatening to spread down his delicate skin. The distinct smell of whiskey clung to his clothes. 

"I'll remember that next time, Mark," he couldn't help himself from joining in when it made that pretty grin stretch even wider on Will's face. It was dopey and lopsided from the liquor, his eyes not entirely focused and his limbs a little uncoordinated. It was as cute as a grown man with a beard could get. 

The next morning Hannibal was making protein scramble for breakfast; he liked to get up at the crack of dawn and feel the soothing silence encompass the kitchen. It was like a careful dance spread out around the confines of the marble counter tops. Soon enough the air was heavy with the spiced smell of his home made sausages and the sound of oil sizzling reached Will. He emerged from the upper floor with one hand pulling up his shirt to scratch his belly whilst the other clung lightly to the banister. He yawned, mouth wide enough to swallow a small bird. 

"Good morning, dear. Is Mischa still asleep?" 

"Sound asleep. Let her have half hour more," Will said this as he wrapped his arms around Hannibal's middle and lay against his husband's back. 

"Still tired?"

"Just morning lethargy. Is the coffee done?"

"At the side, black, just the way you like it. I've got appointments all day till six but we have a family reservation at Magdalena's tonight for seven. You'll need to get Mischa ready and meet me there," Hannibal finished with the pan, adding a dash of pepper and finally starting to serve up. 

"Do you have a suit at your office?" 

"As always. Though I'd appreciate it if you dressed Mischa in her purple dress. She's less fussy in the material."

"I don't know if it's a good idea taking her, you remember she has a palette a little more like mine. I'll never forget when she wanted french fries and your face..." Will thought back, imagining the little jolt and knitted eyebrows. 

"Yes, well, contrary to what she knew at the time, french fries are not typically a French delicacy." 

"Yeah, they're normally cooked in Greece." 

Before he turned Hannibal could hear the snickering. He couldn't help the blank stare that over took him, quietly looking out over the garden through the window and his hands going still. When he did look round, Will had that pretty little smile on his face again; cheeks suitably pink and eyes glistening. 

"Are Dad jokes going to be a habit of yours?" 

"I'm just waiting till you slip up and tell one," Will took a long sip of coffee, the smile still playing at his lips. 

"Unlikely, though it's adorable of you to think it will."

Hannibal finished separating the scramble into different plates, careful to make sure Will's portion was slightly bigger. He was still concerned with how much weight he'd been losing whilst with the FBI. 

"On to more realistic things, are you still okay to drop Mischa to the child minder? I apologize but things start quite early for me this morning." 

"My first class isn't until 11. I've got plenty of time. Honestly, whose that excited to talk about serial killers that early? Normally they put my classes in the afternoon," Will smiled gently and put his cup down on one of the coasters on the kitchen island. 

"I'm sure they find it thrilling no matter the time. Which monster are you examining today?" Hannibal returned the smile as he handed Will his plate. 

"Some weirdo who likes to peel features off corpses. Most victims are found with their head in one place, body in another. He usually enjoys taking the extremities. Heh, what do you call a man with no body and no nose?"

Sharp as a tack Hannibal smirked "Nobody knows."


End file.
